


Steal Some Covers, Share Some Skin

by orphan_account



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Fluff and Angst, I Googled Bob Ross for this, It was going to be pure fluff but my hand slipped, M/M, Sex happened but I didn't write it (yet)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22457950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Richie and Eddie reminisce on how they earned their happy ending during a lazy day in bed.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	Steal Some Covers, Share Some Skin

Now that Eddie is a corporal being in his bed and not a half-forgotten abstraction lodged in the basement of his brain, Richie has been sleeping a lot more soundly. So soundly, in fact, that when he opens his eyes, he cannot immediately recall where they are. He has a fuzzy recollection of stage lights, cheers and jeers, and a microphone that decidedly, for once, does not smell like beer- _I’ve ascended, Mr. Joel_ , he thinks, in a moment of groggy euphoria. 

That’s right, he suddenly remembers, they’re in Chicago. To Richie’s delight, Eddie had taken some of his (insanely built up-like, he had over a month’s worth) vacation time, so instead of four suitcases, he had only brought three. All of Richie’s shit is squashed into a duffel bag (unless Eddie repacked it, in which case the duffel magically has two-thirds of empty space in it). 

As Richie fondly muses on this hypothetical scenario-he actually finds this neurotic little gremlin and his packing habits adorable, he’s so incredibly in love-said gremlin grumbles into Richie’s back, tightening his hold on Richie’s waist. Richie snorts, having deciphered the garbled “Shut up” that was spoken into his spine. 

“I didn’t even say anything, asshole,” he retorts with no actual heat. 

“You were thinking loudly,” Richie, having anticipated Eddie’s response, parrots it at the same time he says it. Eddie retaliates by punching him in the shoulder, which initiates a bout of writhing and wrestling and dirty tricks (Richie definitely takes an elbow to the face, but he also manages to graze Eddie’s ridiculously ticklish thighs, and it gives him an edge). 

Richie ends up being victorious, thanks in no small part to the tickling. Eddie huffs up at him, but he is clearly repressing a grin, and it’s betrayed by the emergence of his dimples. 

“Dick,” he states, and it comes out with so much warmth that it’s a term of endearment. Richie leans down to kiss him. 

“Your back,” Eddie’s protest is muffled against Richie’s lips. 

“‘M back is fine.” Richie mumbles between kisses, devoutly ignoring any twinges that might suggest otherwise. Eddie rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t object any further. He brings a hand up to caress Richie’s face. 

“I’m glad we don’t have to make excuses to do this anymore.” 

August 1990

“If you don’t move your long-ass legs, I’m going to fall off of the bed.”

Richie hums and idly turns the page of his comic book, determinedly ignoring Eddie’s laser-like glare, and splays his legs out even more. “That sounds like a you-problem, Eds.” 

“Hey!” Richie yelps as Eddie bodily flips him into the middle of the bed, making more room for himself. Because he’s also a petty little shit, he glues himself to Richie’s side and presses his cold feet into Richie’s calf. 

“Dude, you made me crinkle Aquaman,” Richie protests weakly, scrambling to hide the fact that his brain is short-circuiting. 

“That sounds like a you-problem.” Eddie retorts snidely. 

Richie sighs. He scoots to the other side of the bed and gestures at the ample amount of space that is now between them and looks away, terrified of glimpsing disgust on Eddie’s face. “Better?” 

Eddie bites his lip. “Actually…” Richie’s eyes fly back to Eddie, concern outweighing his fear. 

“What’s wrong?” He prompts softly, barely stopping the _Eds_ that wants to fall out of his mouth next. This moment feels fragile, and he doesn’t want to antagonize Eddie right now. 

Eddie hesitates. Finally, he crawls over next to Richie and tucks his face into the crook of Richie’s neck. _I’m dead_ , Richie thinks, _I’m dead and this is heaven._ His heartbeat is thundering in his ears. 

“Shut up,” Eddie mumbles although Richie hasn’t spoken and in fact has been rendered mute, “I’m cold.” Richie tentatively snakes an arm around Eddie’s waist, too scared to even crack a joke. 

“Is this okay?” He whispers into Eddie’s hair. Predictably, it’s as soft as it looks, and it smells like vanilla. 

Eddie nods against his throat. “Yeah. Just never prioritize Aquaman over me ever again, you dick.”

October 1993

“Are you sure about this, Rich?” Eddie is perched on the edge of the bed. Scattered next to him rests a random array of art supplies consisting of whatever the Losers could scrounge up. Richie is pacing around the room in a button-up that is only half-done up, and some of the buttons are in the wrong holes. “If it’s stressing you out, we can do another costume.” 

“No no, I can do it.” Richie sounds like he is attempting to reassure himself. “Bev showed me some make-up tricks. That’s got to be a transferable skill, right?” Eddie huffs. 

“Stop freaking out. Come here.” Eddie slaps the borrowed make-up case into Richie’s hands. “It’s just make-up. If you mess up, it’ll come off. No big deal.” Richie swallows. 

“Right.” He crouches between Eddie’s legs, and Eddie suddenly realizes why he might be nervous. Their faces are very close; he can see the flecks of green in the warm brown behind Richie’s thick lenses. 

“Um-you should probably close your eyes.” Eddie jolts, blushing. He’s been caught staring. Richie rests a hand on his leg in order to steady himself as he leans in, and everything is fine until his fingertips graze Eddie’s bare thigh-

“Damn!” Richie hisses, rubbing the sore spot above his ribs. Eddie blanches. 

“I’m sorry! I thought you knew that I’m ticklish!” 

Richie wrenches the shirt off to examine the spot. Sure enough, a perfect imprint of Eddie’s knee is there, and a purple bruise is beginning to bloom. 

Mesmerized by the sight of Richie’s skin and yearning to apologize a thousand times over, Eddie leans forward and presses a kiss just below the spot. 

Richie exhales. “Thanks,” he says softly. Eddie, still mortified, presses his face into Richie’s abdomen. 

“Please forgive me,” he pleads almost incomprehensibly. 

Richie chuckles. He tilts Eddie’s head back, forcing him to look him in the face and see how serious he is. 

“Eds. I already have. You could pour soup in my lap on purpose and I would forgive you.” 

Eddie’s laughter wards off any remaining tension. “Okay, okay, finish my make-up, asshole.”

June 1994

“You’ll come visit me at university, right?” Eddie asks, trying and failing to not sound desperate. Richie looks as rough as Eddie feels; dark circles are smudged under his eyes, and he seems rumpled, like someone stuck him in the back of a drawer and forgot about him.

Despite this, Eddie can’t bring himself to look at anything but Richie. Seeing the barren remains of Richie’s room is simply too raw and somehow worse. They are surrounded by a sea of boxes; try as he might, Eddie can’t quite block them out. 

Richie chuckles, but it sounds broken. “I’ll always make time for you, Spaghetti.” 

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, to no avail. “Fuck it,” he mutters.

He launches himself into Richie’s arms. _I love you._ “I’ll miss you,” he sobs.

“Eds…” _I love you…_ “I’ll miss you, too.”

Present Day 

"I like all of this," Richie states cheekily once they are both sated. Eddie swats him lightly on the shoulder. 

"We killed a demonic clown; I think we earned it." Richie hums in agreement. 

He peers over Eddie's shoulder as he scrolls through the Loser's groupchat. They've missed a volley of messages from the others, most of which are congratulating Richie for his success at his most recent show. 

Rolling over and grabbing his own phone, he types, _"Oh yeah, that. Thanks guys, I kind of forgot all about it since I was getting fucked stupid."_

With lightning speed and without saying a word, Eddie replies, _"You were already stupid."_ Richie cackles. 

"God, I love you," he says, and this time, it's easy.


End file.
